


Cruel Summer

by closetfascination



Series: Works based on Nobody's Clean (S3E5) [2]
Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Violence, Drinking, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking, Winston's Tragic Backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28508940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetfascination/pseuds/closetfascination
Summary: What happened to Winston after he got beat up by Monty at the Hillcrest Party?Winston went home shortly after Alex left. His head pounded, and his face hurt. It wasn't the first time someone had beat him up for being gay, but it was the first time in a while, and probably the most f*cked up his face had ever been. His vain side was a little bit worried his face would be marred forever. Only time would tell.A glimpse into Winston Williams' tragic backstory.
Series: Works based on Nobody's Clean (S3E5) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031436
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14





	Cruel Summer

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Abuse, domestic violence

_**Saturday, July 21st, 2018** _

Winston went home shortly after Alex left. His head pounded, and his face hurt. It wasn't the first time someone had beat him up for being gay, but it was the first time in a while, and probably the most fucked up his face had ever been. His vain side was a little bit worried his face would be marred forever. Only time would tell.

What was messed up what was that he still thought Monty was hot. Winston could tell that it was Monty's first experience with a guy and that he'd enjoyed what he'd done for him. But being called a fag and getting beaten for what he did, well, it kind of put a damper on the whole thing. Monty wasn't the first closeted guy he'd randomly hooked up with and probably wouldn't be the last. But he was starting to get tired of all the random hookups with no substance behind them. Winston knew they fulfilled a need, but not necessarily all of his needs.

And then there was Alex. Alex, who cared enough to make sure if he was ok. Alex, the boy with a cane, who seemed lost. There was something about him that intrigued Winston. He had seemed to be at the party for a reason and did not seem happy to be there. And the people Alex associated with were messed up: a closeted Latinx with apparent anger issues, and Bryce Walker, the new guy at Hillcrest, who everyone knew was a rapist and that people had not looked too kindly upon.

Alex was attractive as well. Not in the same way as Monty, but Alex was definitely pretty, with tousled light brown hair, deep blue eyes, strong jawline and perfectly pink lips that Winston couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to kiss. It would have to wait until after his face stopped throbbing in pain. There would be no kissing in Winston's immediate future, that was for sure. Besides, there was no guarantee that Alex was into guys or that he'd ever see him again, but that had never really stopped Winston from crushing on someone before.

He'd managed to make it into his house without waking up his mother. His father was gone on some business trip and had been for the past few weeks. Things were better at home when his father wasn't around.

Winston decided a shower was in order, even if the thought of water even touching his face at this point made him cringe a little. As Winston let the hot water stream down his face and over his slender body, he started to think about what he'd tell his mother. Naturally, she'd wonder why his face was in such disarray and as all mothers do, would worry. Winston always kept his word. He hadn't considered pressing charges against Monty. Still, Winston wasn't going to refuse a large amount of cash as bribery to keep quiet. He was rich, but $7000 was more than pocket change to him.

The best story he'd come up with so far is that he'd had too much to drink and had fallen face-first down the stairs. Or better yet, since his mother might be suspicious of that story given how infrequently he drank to drunkenness, some drunkard fell down the stairs and somehow took him with him? Winston sighed and flinched as a stream of water hit his face in precisely the wrong way. A cover story for his mother was a tomorrow problem. He reluctantly left the warmth of the shower and towelled himself off. Winston donned his favourite pyjamas, a dark grey pinstriped silk set his mother had gifted him last Christmas, took ibuprofen for the pain, and brushed his teeth. He crawled into his bed and quickly fell asleep despite the throbbing in his face.

* * *

_**Sunday, July 21st, 2018** _

The next morning, Winston noticed there was a text message from Bryce Walker.

 **Bryce (9:03 am):** When would you like to meet?

Interesting, Winston thought, he wasn't sure if Bryce was actually going to follow up with the $5000, but here he was. Even though he seemed sleazy as fuck, he was a man of his word. Winston closed his phone again and figured he'd message Bryce back later.

Winston made his way downstairs in his pyjamas around 11 am, following the delicious breakfast smells that seemed to waft up the stairs. He'd slept well for once and wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was beaten mentally or literally physically. He noticed Chesa, their chef and housekeeper, was already at work, making some sort of brunch. Chesa, originally from the Philippines, was a curvy older woman who was 50-something. She had recently let her shortly cropped hair go grey, which contrasted with her healthy tanned skin and had piercing brown eyes that seemed to peer into one's soul.

His mother was up, reading a newspaper at the dining room table. She tucked her shoulder-length auburn hair behind her ear as she read and took a sip from her mimosa, not noticing that Winston had come downstairs. It was not uncommon for his mother to start drinking with breakfast, and seemed to be even more common as of late.

"Good morning, Chesa!" Winston greeted the older woman brightly, sitting down at the breakfast bar at the island in the kitchen. Chesa was like a second mother to him. She'd been working for his family since his parents hired her on to be his nanny. In some ways, he was closer to her than he was to his own mother.

"Good morning, Winston!" Chesa returned Winston's greeting warmly, without looking up from the pancakes she was preparing. After flipping each pancake, she turned and saw his face. Her eyes grew concerned and she gasped, "My dear boy, what happened to your face?"

"Oh, nothing. Common party injury. Tripped and fell down the stairs," Winston said brightly, smiling to try to cover any pain that might be exposed in his face.

Chesa frowned and looked at him sceptically. "Hmmm I never knew you to be so clumsy as you have been lately. If I find out it was those bullies at school again..."

Winston interrupted her, "Well you know, I grew 7 inches in the past year; I'm still getting used to this beanpole body." He had become more clumsy when he went through his growth spurt. Winston had spent most of junior high and a large part of high school, short 5'4 and 110 lbs soaking wet. In the past year, he shot up to 5'11" and gained 20 lbs, so he was still skinny as all get out, but seemed to be all limbs now and was still learning where to put them. He continued in a more hushed tone, "Let's not speak of this anymore, we wouldn't want to worry Mother." His mother still hadn't looked up from her newspaper, despite the fact he knew she could hear him talking to Chesa.

"I worry about you, Winston and so does your mother." She gave him a lovingly stern look that only a mother or someone who cared like a mother could.

"I know, I know. But I'm fine, I really am." His tone was so confident Winston almost had himself convinced. The truth was, he was worried about his mother. It wouldn't be the first time either.

He'd spent most of his life worried about his mother. His father was a cruel man, cold and abusive. It was worse when he'd been drinking. Still, Winston was reasonably confident that his father wasn't capable of truly loving anyone. While his most significant abuse towards Winston was neglect, a lack of both love and affection, he'd witnessed his father verbally and sometimes physically lash out at his mother. He hated his father for how he treated his mother. He knew his mother would never leave his father, though. She'd become accustomed to living a certain way, and there was a certain amount of prestige to being married to a Williams. Winston was planning on getting out, though. Somehow. The $7000 from Bryce would help, as he'd started to save up a fund his father couldn't control.

His father, Walton Williams, was dead set that his son would go to Princeton. Since Winston's grades were average, at best, his father had arranged for Brian Chu to take the SATs for him. Winston wasn't sure he cared about going to Princeton. But his mother and his father did. A prestige thing again. They didn't care what he did there, so long that he went. He would be the fourth generation of Williams to attend. The older he got, the more he wanted to rebel against what his parents wanted, to live his own life. He dreamed of running away and becoming a famous photographer. He didn't see why he needed to go to Princeton to do that.

"How many pancakes would you like, dear?" Chesa asked, "Sausages?"

"Three pancakes and three sausages, please. "Winston replied, scrolling through his phone. He figured he should respond to Bryce.

**Winston (11:13 am):** I'm free anytime this afternoon.

He locked his screen and put his phone down, accepting the plate of delicious food from Chesa. She brought him maple syrup, whipped cream and fresh strawberries to top his pancakes with.

"Thanks, Chesa. You've outdone yourself, as usual."

Chesa blushed and gave Winston an affectionate smile. "Oh, no problem, dear."

Chesa prepared a bowl of mixed fruit topped with plain yoghurt and brought it over to his mother, Evelyn. Winston wondered what was up with his mother, she was more zoned out than usual. But he also didn't want her to see his face. Chesa's reaction ++was bad enough, his mother would freak when she saw his face. He decided the safest bet would be to ask Chesa.

He called her over after he finished his pancakes.

"How were they?" Chesa smiled warmly at him.

"Excellent as usual. Thank you!" Winston continued in a hushed voice, "What's up with mom?"

Chesa leaned in, lowering her voice, "Oh yes, Evelyn found out Mr Williams is coming home today."

Winston cursed inwardly. He didn't mind it when his father was gone. His mother was pleasant and not on edge. And he'd been gone a lot recently. Enough that Winston had almost forgotten what it was like when he was around.

"Do you know when?"

"His flight arrives in San Francisco at 7 pm," Chesa's voice adopted a more formal tone, like she was practising for Mr Williams' return.

"Thanks for the heads up."

"No problem, Winston."

Winston's phone vibrated.

**Bryce (11:35 am):** Meet me at my house at 1:00 pm.

 **Winston (11: 36 am):** see u then

"I'm going to lie down for a bit, Chesa, and then I'm going to a friend's house around quarter to one, in case mom asks about me. Thanks again for breakfast!"

"Not a problem, Winston. You take care. I worry about you." Chesa gave him a concerned look.

"You don't need to worry about me," Winston dismissed her concern, "See you later." He made his way back up to his bedroom. He took another ibuprofen for the pain, although he wasn't sure if it did anything earlier, and then proceeded to lay on his bed. He set his alarm for 12:45 pm and dozed off until then.

* * *

Winston wasn't surprised that Bryce's house was at least as fancy as his own. He rang the doorbell, and Bryce answered.

"Winston, come in. Ouch, your face looks like it's seen better days."

Winston didn't really know what to say. He was taken aback by Bryce's friendliness as he didn't know him very well. They'd had a couple of classes together, but they hadn't really interacted before.

"Yeah, it has. So, you have the money?"

"Yes, and this…" Bryce held up a Hillcrest ID card that bore his name and Brian Chu's picture.

"Ah yes, the ID Brian used to write the SAT's for me."

"I'm going to hold onto it, make sure that you don't say anything. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want it widely known you cheated on your SATs."

"I won't say anything." Winston's inner amusement at the situation came out as a slight smile.

That Bryce figured that he'd need both the money and the ID to blackmail him into keeping quiet was almost funny. Still, as far as he knew, Bryce only knew about the Monty beating him up.

Even though Monty beat him, there is no way he'd out another guy. Some secrets you just didn't tell.

"Good, I'm glad we are on the same page. Monty was anxious you'd talk," Bryce smiled and handed over the $5000 that he'd promised to Winston the night before.

Winston accepted it.

"You can assure him, his secret is safe with me." Winston realized it was kind of a cheeky thing to say, but he couldn't resist.

Bryce didn't bat an eye. "Pleasure doing business with you, Williams."

Winston nodded and left. Something about Bryce was unsettling to him, Winston found that he was almost too friendly. He'd dealt with many entitled assholes before, but Bryce was by far one of the most charismatic.

He didn't want to go home right away but also didn't really want to be seen in public, sporting a smashed-in face. He opted for picking up a coffee to-go at Monet's and then heading home.

He managed to make it back into his house and up to his room without his mother seeing him. When she was in one of these moods, typically before his dad returned home, it was pretty easy to move in and out of the house unnoticed. He picked out a record and put it on the turntable. Winston lay down on his bed, scrolling through Instagram. After scrolling for a bit, Winston's mind wandered back to Monty. He decided he'd see if he even had an Instagram account. He didn't appear to. He was in pictures on Bryce's account though, and Bryce's account led him to Alex's.

Alex's didn't have a lot on it, but Winston laughed out loud at a few of the captions. Not to mention, Alex looked really different now compared to the bleach blond hair he had in earlier pictures. The kid with a cane that seemed so uptight had a sense of humour that Winston couldn’t help but appreciate. His favourite was a picture of a coffee cup with black coffee that Alex had captioned, "This coffee is like my soul."

Hillcrest was a fickle place, and he was lucky he had a few people he could say he was close to. His mind wandered off to what he would do about tonight. He didn't really want to be home when his father returned. He decided to message his closest friends in their group chat and see if either of them could get him out of the house tonight.

**A Bunch of Brats Group Chat**

**Winston (4:03 pm):** hey friends anyone wanna get me out of the house tonight?

 **Ivan (4:07 pm):** sorry bro, my parents are making me have dinner with some dude from Harvard admissions or something. it sounds lame, but I can't skip it

 **Natalie (4:08 pm):** oh Winny, I wish I could, but my mom surprised me with tickets to Hawaii, and we leave tonight. How are you doing btw? We heard you got beat down at Purcell's party.

 **Winston (4:10 pm):** I'm fine. I mean my face is hideous, and my pride is a bit hurt, but I'll survive, I always do. Shit, and I suppose @Todd and @Tara are in Ibiza for the summer? I really need a reason not to be at my house when my dad gets home. He'll freak if he sees my face like this.

 **Natalie (4:11 pm):** Oof, sorry Winny. Yeah, Todd and Tara are gone until the end of the summer. Seems like you are shit out of luck, buddy.

 **Winston (4:12 pm):** I mean I can always go out alone, I guess.

 **Ivan (4:15 pm):** I'm surprised you didn't get that one guy's number, the hot guy you pointed out when we were standing on the balcony

Oh if only they knew, Winston thought to himself. His friends knew him well and knew that he wasn't shy about picking up random people at parties. But usually, his encounters didn't end so violently, and he promised he would keep Monty's secret.

 **Winston (4:17 pm):** Not gay, unfortunately.

 **Ivan (4:25 pm):** sorry I couldn't help bro, i'll text you when I'm done if you are still cruising around and want company.

Winston locked his phone and headed down to see if Chesa was around. The plan was still early dinner and take off before his dad arrived home. Sneak back in after midnight sometime.

Chesa was busy preparing dinner.

"Oh, Winston your back. I must have missed you coming inside."

"What's for dinner?"

"Mr Williams wants the family to dine together at 8:00 pm."

Winston rolled his eyes. "I'm going out. I can't be there for dinner. Any chance you can make me something before that?"

"Winston, your father was quite insistent that he wanted you there."

"I can't show up like this, Chesa. He'll kill me."

Chesa gave him an appraising look. "We could use some makeup to reduce the look of the bruising, but that swelling can't be disguised with any makeup I know of."

"Hmmm I just hate him so much, you know. I wouldn't want to go anyways, but to hear him make some offhand comment of how much of a disappointment I am... I don't think I can do it, Chesa."

"But what about your mother? Are you going to let her have dinner alone with him? You know how much worse he is when he is alone with her."

"Fair, enough."

"Ugh when you put it that way, I really should come for dinner. I'm just tired. I wish she'd just leave him. I know that we wouldn't have this life without him, but I often wonder if it is worth it."

"I hear you. I've seen how Mr Williams treats Mrs Williams, and it makes me sick to my stomach. And recently, he has started in on you. It isn't fair. Have you been saving your money like I told you to?"

"Yes, Chesa. As much as I can."

"I'll help you with your face. Go have a shower and come see me when you have dressed. Oh, and he wants you to wear a suit. Formal attire is what he told me on the phone."

If there was anyone more elitist than Walton Williams, Winston hadn't met them yet. Of course, he wanted them to dress formally for dinner. He'd never met someone more pretentious.

"Ok, I'll see you in 30 minutes or so."

While Winston wanted to stay in the shower all day, he finally emerged after 20 minutes. He didn't really need to shower, but it did make him feel better. He selected a dark grey suit and a coordinating dress shirt with a black tie. After donning his clothes, Winston spent a bit of time taming his wild curls with some hair gel. He used to hate his hair, but lately, he'd embraced his curls.

Chesa was waiting for him in the pool house where she lived.

"Ok, let's see what we can do about these bruises."

Chesa applied the makeup masterfully. Winston knew this wasn't the first time she'd applied makeup to cover bruises. While his father was mostly emotionally abusive, the few times he'd been physically abusive, Chesa had helped his mother cover the bruises. Winston sometimes wondered why Chesa stayed, but he figured it was because Mr Williams paid her far more than she'd be able to get working for another family. Money could buy loyalty and silence, and Chesa kept their secrets.

When she was done, unless his father looked really closely and noticed that Winston's face was puffier than usual, the bruising was undetectable.

"No crying tonight, Winston. The makeup will run if you break down into tears."

"I sincerely hope my father doesn't give me anything to cry about tonight, Chesa."

Winston wished he was joking, but there was always the chance with his father that he might say something less than sensitive. Lately, his tears had switched to anger, though. He'd been keeping his feelings bottled up so long that he felt a bit like a dormant volcano, something that could explode at any time. His usually calm, sometimes cocky exterior housed a ticking time-bomb of emotions.

"Me too, Winston. But alas, that is wishful thinking."

"Let's not talk of these things, Chesa. Why don't you tell me what you have planned for dinner."

And so she did, distracting him from his own negative thoughts as she'd done numerous times before.

* * *

The car transporting Walton Williams from the airport arrived at 7:45 pm. The first time Winston had interacted with his mother all day was waiting to greet his father. He expected them to be waiting outside for him when he arrived.

"Oh, Winston, you are looking good today." His mother hugged him and gave him an air kiss on each side of his face as the French do.

"Thanks, Mom." Winston smiled, trying not to wince in pain at the same time. Smiling hurt and he was a bit worried it would mess up his makeup. The thought was ridiculous, and something he'd never thought he'd ever had to worry about, but here he was. She didn't comment on his face so Chesa must have done an excellent job on his makeup. More likely, though, she was choosing not to see it as so many people had decided not to see the abuse she'd endured for the past twenty years.

The black limousine carrying his father pulled up in front of the house, parking just in front of the ornate fountain that was in the middle of the Williams' driveway. His father emerged, stylishly dressed in a black suit. Wherever he'd been for the past few months, it must have been sunny there, as his father's naturally pale skin was tanned. Winston loathed the fact he looked the spitting image of his father. The only difference being that he wore his hair slightly longer and his father had two white streaks at his temples.

His father felt like a stranger to him as he'd never been around much. As he was always on some sort of business trip, Winston never really bonded with his father. Not to mention, Winston wasn't the son Walton had hoped for, or at least that is the impression Winston always got. His father had played on Princeton's football team, and they had started Winston young with sports, but Winston hated playing. His father always said he was too soft for football, and maybe that was true, but Winston didn't really see what was wrong with that. To him, football was a stupid sport, and the only thing he enjoyed about it now was watching the often attractive boys play.

That was another point of contention between them. Winston had come out fairly early, almost as a form of rebellion. It was early in his teens when he'd given up on trying to be the son he thought his father wanted him to be. His father's reaction wasn't openly hostile, which was almost worse than the silently judgmental disdain the man had for him. But Winston was reasonably sure his father didn't love or approve of him anyways, so he had nothing to lose.

Walton nodded his head coldly in Winston's direction and then proceeded to give a stiff hug and a cold peck on the lips to his wife, Evelyn. There was no love in the Williams' household, at least not between Walton and his wife and his son. Once he'd greeted everyone, they all followed him into the house where they retired to the parlour for pre-dinner drinks.

Chesa poured Walton a glass of his current obsession, obscenely expensive Japanese Whisky. This one was a Karuizawa Vintage Aqua of Life 45-Year-Old Single Cask Malt Whisky. Winston only knew because the last time his father had been home, he'd gone on for at least an hour on the virtues of Japanese Whisky.

"So Winston, how's school?" his father asked, taking a slow sip of his drink.

"School had been out for a few weeks now," Winston replied flatly.

"Oh. Well, how did you do?"

"Same as usual. Solid C average."

Walton frowned. "Is that really the best you can do? It still baffles me that you barely scrape by with C's and yet you manage to score 1500 on your SATs."

Had his father already forgotten that he'd paid someone to those for him? His mother wasn't aware that they'd done that though, so Winston took it as a dig at him. He sighed, he was used to this sort of commentary, but it didn't make it any easier to hear.

"We've gone over this before, school is boring. I can't be bothered to try."

Winston could see his father clench his jaw and furrow his brow at this. "If it is so boring, it should be easy for you."

Winston steeled his jaw, choosing to say nothing. It was the same pointless conversation.

"But it shouldn't matter with 1500 on your SATs and the Williams name. I've arranged a meeting with a Princeton alumnus. All you have to do is impress them, and you'll likely get in, despite the sorry excuse for grades you bring home."

He nodded but said nothing in response. His father wasn't worth his breath.

Chesa came in with his mother's drink, a French 75. She often drank them and even more frequently when her husband was home as they were strong.

"Winston, do you want anything?" Chesa asked. His parents usually let him have a drink or two before dinner, but he wanted to keep a clear head, in case he wanted to go for that drive later.

"I'm good, Chesa, just water with lemon for me."

His father scoffed. "You won't even join us for a drink? How about a whisky? It will put some hair on your chest."

"I'm fine with the hair I have, father." Winston had to stop himself from rolling his eyes and was impressed that he'd managed to keep the snark out of his tone, both things that would have garnered further disdain from his father. He was already exhausted. He hated the show he and his mother always had to put on for him.

He didn't let up, though. Winston knew he probably wasn't done, even though he'd hoped. "Most kids your age would love to have a drink with their father."

Winston wondered how much his father had drunk on the airplane as he was clearly already somewhat intoxicated, which didn't bode well for him or his mother. He disliked his father at the best of times but hated him when he'd been drinking. Unable to hold back, his tone dripping with sarcasm, he offered, "Sorry for being _such_ a disappointment."

If he'd been closer to his father, and not sitting on a chaise a reasonable distance away, Winston was sure his father would have slapped him across the face.

Instead, he just slapped him with words.

"How dare you! You selfish little brat! All I do is work so you and your mother can lead a lavish lifestyle and THIS is the thanks I get." Walton downed his very expensive whiskey much faster than one should drink such a thing and stormed out to the patio, presumably to smoke a cigarette.

"That went well," Winston deadpanned, smirking, followed by a wince since facial expressions still hurt. His mother noticed.

"Winston, does something hurt, honey?"

"Oh only my pride, Mother," he told a half-truth. He'd said that a lot over the past day or so.

"You should know better than to say such things to him," his mother scolded.

Winston scoffed. "It is amazing that you still take his side after everything he's done to you."

When he was six, he hid in his room because all he could hear outside was the sound of crystal breaking as it smashed against the wall. When he was thirteen, he watched his father shove his mother down the stairs because they were arguing about him and how she'd 'coddled him' too much as a child and that's why he was 'weird'. Not gay. No, his father would never admit that his only son was gay, even though everyone knew now.

His mother had no witty reply to this. By her lack of response, Winston knew he'd hit a nerve.

"Winston... I'm sorry," her voice came out small, broken. His father had made sure her spirit was broken long ago.

"You are always sorry. Even though it is rarely your fault. You know that mom, right?"

"I..." Her voice trailed off, and her mouth was agape, as she watched Walton return to the room, the scent of fresh cigarette smoke following him like a physical embodiment of his toxic presence.

Instead of returning to his chair, he approached Winston and moved his face as close to his son's as he could manage without touching. Winston felt his father's breath and could smell the woodsy smell of whiskey mixed with fresh cigarette smoke. He sensed his father's finger lightly trace across his cheekbone, and he winced again in pain, his eye squinting shut. He saw his father rub his fingers together, and his eyes narrow in anger.

"Why the _fuck_ are you wearing makeup?"

"Uh... I fell down the stairs at a party last night. I didn't want mom to worry." His father's tone worried him a little. It was the tone he used with his mother before lashing out.

"I don't fucking believe you! Do you think I'm fucking stupid?"

All the brashness, the brazenness of his words from before evaporated.

"No, sir."

"Then why lie to me?" Walton's voice was calm, cold, calculated and worst of all, uncaring.

Something cracked in Winston and blurted out, "Someone beat me up because I'm gay! No, what did they call me? A fag. Is that what you want to hear?"

His father went silent and grimaced as if this same information hurt him and refused to acknowledge him. "Chesa, can you bring me another whiskey?" Then he turned to address all of them, "Can we try to have a fucking nice dinner now?"

Winston wasn't sure if what followed could be considered "nice". It was a quiet dinner where nobody really spoke other than to ask Chesa for another drink or to bring the dessert. By the end, Winston was exhausted.

"May I be excused?" he asked with maximum deference, careful not to let any edge creep into his voice.

"You may." His father said nothing else.

"I'm going for a drive, if that is ok?" Winston asked, even though he planned on leaving regardless of the answer. There was no way he would stay cooped up for the rest of the evening.

His father said nothing and his mother just said, "Don't stay out too late." A façade of caring that she put on in front of his father. When his father was gone, half the time, he was pretty sure that his mother had no idea if he was home or not. Winston didn't hold it against her, though. She could barely take care of herself, so how could he expect her to take care of him?

It was 9:30 pm by the time the charade was done. Winston hadn't looked at his phone since before his father's arrival to avoid giving his father another reason to lose it on him tonight. There was a message from Ivan.

**Ivan (9:03 pm):** I'm free... if you still want to ride around together?

 **Winston (9:31 pm):** jfc yes. i just had the worst dinner with my father

 **Ivan (9:32 pm):** come get me?

 **Winston (9:33 pm):** tout suite!

Ivan was one of Winston's oldest friends. He was the first person Winston had come out to at the tender age of 13. They'd been watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and Winston casually commented on the hotness of Cedric Diggory. He remembered that Ivan just looked at him and said, "I'm more into Fleur Delacour, but hey, that's cool with me." And they never really spoke of it again. He was from a progressive family and didn't really see what the big deal was.

Winston drove them to a lookout point they often went to hang out. It was quiet there, and almost nobody came by. He fished the half-empty pack of stale cigarettes from his glove box and the silver zippo his grandfather gave him. He hated that he shared this vice with his father, but it gave him an odd sort of comfort on days like today. Ivan pulled out a joint, sparking it up and moving to sit on the bench beside Winston. That is usually what they did when they came up here.

Ivan teased, "I think you are the only person I know our age who smokes real cigarettes. Why don't you vape or smoke weed like the rest of us?"

Winston laughed; Ivan always teased him about his smoking. Still, he did it so infrequently that he didn't really think it was a big deal.

"What, and be constantly huffing nicotine vapour from a USB device? No, thank you. I’ll take my occasional cancer stick. And I'm driving you; otherwise, tonight, getting high sounds delightful."

"Rough night?"

"Yeah. My dad's an asshole." Winston took a light drag off his cigarette, inhaling shallowly and exhaling quickly. It had been a while since his dad had been home which meant it had been a while since he'd last smoked.

"Yeah, he is. What did he do this time?"

"Oh, you know, “You're a disappointment. Why can't you be better?” etcetera. He hates me."

Ivan simply nodded, exhaling a stream of cannabis smoke into the night air.

"I know things could be worse, like, I have a lovely place to live, food to eat and yet why does it still feel like a prison? I can't wait to leave and never come back."

"Now you're being melodramatic. Your house is way too nice to be a prison," Ivan laughed.

But Ivan didn't know about the abuse. No one did. The years of witnessing his mom be tormented and how his father had slowly started in on him recently.

"I can't go back there tonight." Winston's head hung low, and he shook it, tears threatening to erupt from his eyes.

"You want to stay over tonight? We can get you properly high back at my house, and you can stay in the guest room." Ivan offered. This wasn't the first time Ivan had made such an offer and probably wouldn't be the last.

"That would be nice," Winston said, taking a final drag of his cigarette before extinguishing it half-smoked and they made their way to Ivan's house. The plan to get Winston high didn't survive contact with both of them being tired and Ivan already being high. They ended up going to bed shortly after midnight.

* * *

_**Monday, July 23st, 2018** _

Winston was embarrassed when he woke up to find that the pillow he'd slept on was covered in the makeup that Chesa had used to cover his bruises. He flipped the pillow over so it wouldn't be so obvious and slipped out before Ivan awoke. Ivan wouldn't have cared if Winston spent the whole day and another night there. Still, he knew his mom would worry if he wasn't at least home in the morning, and Chesa was probably already concerned. Considering how drunk his father was and likely how drunk his mother ended up getting, they probably hadn't noticed that he never came home; or if they did,he knew they wouldn't say anything.

He got into his car and drove the short distance to his house. He disabled the alarm system and entered his house. The mansion was quiet, but he could smell waffles and sausages being cooked in the kitchen, so he made his way toward there.

"Good morning, Chesa!"

"Oh, my boy! You made it home. I was worried about you."

Winston smirked, thinking at least one person was. Neither his mother nor his father were awake yet.

"Oh, you know I can take care of myself."

"I still worry, especially when you come home bruised like you did the other day."

"I know," Winston acknowledged, feeling a little guilty he hadn't at least let Chesa know he wasn't coming home. "I stayed at Ivan's house last night."

"Oh, how is Ivan? I haven't seen him in a while."

"Ivan's good."

"Well, after you left, Mr Williams informed me that he is leaving again tomorrow for a month. I thought you'd like to know." Chesa smiled warmly at him, knowing he'd be happy to hear this. Winston could tell she was pleased about this as well.

"Thanks, Chesa."

Winston let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He'd at least be able to enjoy a month of what had so far been a cruel summer.

If only he could keep from falling in love too fast or getting beat up again.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this for a while and decided to post it as a one-shot today in honour of Deaken Bluman's birthday which is today. 
> 
> I considered doing a multi-chaptered fic that filled in the gaps in Winston's story right up until the Homecoming game with this as the first chapter. I have a few other ideas for Winston's backstory. If you liked this, and want more of this kind of content, let me know in the comments and I may turn so of those ideas into a few more one-shots instead of the multi-chapter fic. 
> 
> Thanks to [de_la_cruz87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/de_la_cruz87/works) for beta reading this story. 
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think. Thanks for reading!


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